The Pursuit of Mary Bennet (23 page)

“Darcy and I must have arrived right on their heels,” he said. “I can hardly believe we could have missed them, if they came here and not to Portsmouth. Don’t forget, we have another street to investigate, as well as a few more establishments on this one.”

“I can see you’re an optimist, and I am quite the opposite.”

“Come, there’s a small park across the street. Let’s rest for a moment.” When there was an opening in the traffic, we rushed across and seated ourselves on a wooden bench with a view of the harbor. I was shocked to see that the ships, of which there were too many to count, rested on mud flats, their sails furled.

“I don’t understand,” I said, looking at Henry.

He laughed. “You mean, where is the water?”

“Well . . . yes.”

“The quay is on the Avon River, and when the tide is out, the ships must wait. Sometimes for days.” He lifted a brow at me. “Another reason to be optimistic.”

“My goodness, I had no idea.”

A tall crane was in operation, unloading cargo from some of the ships onto a wharf. Stout-looking men then moved it onto wagons or one of the many other vehicles we’d noticed on our way into the city. It was an impressive sight, and looked like a hard day’s work. We watched in silence for a while. Before he spoke, I felt Henry’s eyes studying me.

“I am sorry for all this,” he said. “The thought of parting with Felicity must grieve you.”

I turned to meet his gaze. “Yes. It has been difficult to remain hopeful.” Tears pricked my eyes and my throat thickened.
Don’t weep. You’ll never stop, and what will he think of you then?

Unexpectedly, a screechlike laugh rent the air. A very familiar laugh. I jumped up and whirled around, craning my neck. It only took a moment to spot Lydia and her Captain Mason, just entering the park. He was holding Fee.

Instead of waiting for their approach, which would have been a more calm and measured reaction, I rushed to them. “Lydia! We have been searching all over for you!” Perhaps not the ideal greeting in the circumstance.

She looked stunned, and for an instant I thought she might bolt. She remained standing just where she was, however, looking resolute. I walked over to her, and while I longed to reach out for Felicity, I knew that would not sit well with Lydia. I tried to look as unthreatening as possible.

“Oh, lud. I might have known. Didn’t Papa tell you I asked not to be followed?”

I ignored the question. “Will you introduce us to your friend?”

She seemed rattled by my request. “Oh, very well. This is Captain Robert Mason. Robert, this is my sister Mary and Mr. Henry Walsh.” The captain bowed to me and shook hands with Henry, smiling most cordially.

“Thank you for taking such good care of my sister and niece, sir,” I said. I looked at Fee. It was difficult to tell if she recognized me or not. She waved one arm up and down excitedly, while the other wrapped around Captain Mason’s neck. Her dark hair had grown longer, curling around her face.

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

I turned back to Lydia. “We did not come to try to stop you. Only to ascertain whether or not you and Captain Mason truly wanted Felicity with you.”

Anger glinted in Lydia’s eyes, and she strode over to the bench. “Robert, bring Felicity to me,” she said, sitting down. He did as she asked, and Henry and I walked over, too.

He leaned down and whispered to me. “I am here if you need me. Otherwise I shall leave things to you.” I nodded and whispered my thanks.

Lydia took the child onto her lap. “Today she is five months old! I’d wager you forgot, Mary. Doesn’t she look well?”

I winced, because indeed I had not remembered Fee’s birthday. I couldn’t believe how she’d changed in a mere month. Upon closer scrutiny, I could see she’d grown chubbier, and a few milk teeth had sprouted on the bottom. I had to admit she looked contented and well cared for.

“Do you think me an unfit mother, Mary? And you have come to rescue Felicity?”

“Of course not—”

Lydia’s face took on an indignant expression. “From the very first, you wanted her for your own. You wanted to be her mother, because you knew you would never marry and have a child.”

That was too close to the truth for me to deny outright. “I only wanted to help you care for Felicity. You will recall having some difficulties adjusting to motherhood.”

“You’re right, I did have trouble at first. But when I was finally ready to be a mother, you wouldn’t let me. You took every opportunity to shove me aside so you could change her, dress her, play with her. Even Mama noticed.”

“What Mama noticed was that you had formed no attachment to your child.”

“That’s not what she told me after you left for High Tor. She said if you hadn’t been so possessive and interfering, I would have been a proper mother to Fee a lot sooner.”

I was certain Lydia was exaggerating. However, I wouldn’t put it past my mother to have said something of that nature, even though she had expressed the opposite view to me. I felt desperation gripping me, but I knew I must control myself. “Just tell me one thing, Lydia. Do you love Fee? Swear to me that you love her, and I will acknowledge you’ve changed and are ready to be a good mother to her.”

“I don’t have to swear anything to you,” Lydia said. “But if it makes you feel better, I do love her with all my heart, don’t I, poppet?” She plopped a kiss on Fee’s cheek. “And so does the captain.”

I glanced at him. “Is that true, sir?”

“I’ve grown to care for her, yes.” He was an ordinary-looking man, lacking the dark good looks of Wickham, and perhaps the sophistication. But his expression seemed sincere, and despite everything, I believed him.

It was over. My hopes of reclaiming Felicity were dashed. I had no choice but to believe my sister, and there was an honesty about Captain Mason that made me trust him. I gave a brusque nod. “I didn’t come here to demand you give up your daughter, only to let you know we were prepared to raise her if you felt unable to do so.”

“What do you mean by ‘we’? You and Mr. Walsh?”

Heat flooded my face and neck, and I shook my head vehemently. “No, of course not. The family. Jane and Lizzy and I.”

“Good God, are they all here, too?”

“Only Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. They’re looking for you as well.”

“Well, now you’ve found us, and you know the truth. Let’s have dinner together tonight! Lud, this is all a monstrous good joke! I can’t wait to see the look on Lizzy’s face.”

Determined to remain civil, I said, “I’m sure she’ll want to see you before you set sail. We’re at the Twin Anchors, just up the street from here.”

“I know where it is,” said the captain.

“We shall see you there tonight, then.” I barely got the words out, my mind jumping ahead to the nightmarish experience of sharing a meal with Lydia and her captain. And with Felicity close by, but entirely out of my reach.

Chapter 27

W
hen Lydia and her little family arrived at the inn, Lizzy at once spirited our sister away while Mr. Darcy and Mr. Walsh took Captain Mason in hand. Lydia had passed the baby to me after Elizabeth hugged and kissed the niece she’d never met, and I held her in my lap to play pat-a-cake and peekaboo. Although Fee seemed perfectly happy with me, there was nothing in her behavior to suggest she remembered me. Every so often, I glanced toward my sisters. Lydia’s countenance had grown flushed, and she seemed agitated. Lizzy’s face bore a stern expression, and her hand gripped Lydia’s arm firmly. I had no doubt she was telling her how I had suffered and demanding she behave with decorum.

On the whole, she did. Such was the state of my emotions, I took no note of what she said, but only wished to observe her with Felicity, to try to judge if she truly had developed those motherly qualities which she previously had lacked. As the evening wore on, however, Lydia couldn’t resist a few unkind remarks. “Mary is not in spirits,” she said, and later, “I declare, Mary, you are duller than usual tonight.” To my astonishment, I heard Captain Mason say softly, “Lydia, that is unkind.” She quickly lowered her head, so I couldn’t see her expression.

With that, Mr. Darcy scooted his chair back and rose. “It has been a long and trying day, especially for Elizabeth and Mary. Perhaps it is time to say good-bye.”

Lizzy was staring pointedly at Lydia, whose face bore a petulant look. “May I have a private word with you, Mary?” she asked after a moment.

Startled, I nodded my assent and we moved to one corner of the room. Mr. Darcy and Henry had engaged Captain Mason in conversation, while Lizzy entertained Fee. I waited for Lydia to speak.

She wouldn’t look at me. Her words were rushed and her color heightened. “I only wanted to say thank you, Mary, for all you did for me and Felicity. Even though I think it was horrid bad of you to try to take her away from me, I know I could never have managed without your help. So, I am grateful to you for it.”

“Taking care of Fee was a privilege.” I felt myself choking up but blinked back the tears. “She’s a wonderful child, and I shall miss her very much.” I was strongly tempted to dole out some advice regarding Felicity’s care but concluded Lydia now knew more about that than I. “I wish you happy in your new life in America. You will write, of course.” She kissed my cheek and, without giving me a chance to do likewise, scurried back to the others.

Lydia made as if to take Fee from Elizabeth, but before she could do so, I asked, “May I hold her a moment, just to say good-bye?” Lydia’s lips thinned, but she stepped aside so I could take the baby from Lizzy’s outstretched arms. I walked toward the far end of the room, rubbing my cheek against her dark curls.

I was not Felicity’s mother, and yet my whole being cried out that I was. That it was not right for Lydia to separate me from her. When I had arrived at Longbourn after Fee’s birth, broken and dispirited, it was Fee who made me whole again. She who, by the mere fact of her existence, showed me how I might get on with my life. Felicity had proved to me that no matter how low one’s spirits may sink, life holds something in safekeeping to present at the most fortuitous moment. She had filled the emptiness in me with her innocent and trusting love, and I prayed I had given her that gift in return. I would give her up to Lydia, as indeed I must, but I would hold her in my heart forever.

Tears streamed down my face, dripping onto the bodice of my gown. I felt a gentle arm slide around my shoulders, and Lizzy was there, comforting me, her voice sounding a little wobbly. “Come, dearest, it is time to let go. Dry your tears.” She blotted my face with a handkerchief.

I inhaled an audible breath and, with a supreme effort of will, regained my composure. I could not allow Lydia to see my anguish, the true depth of my sorrow. She was taking Fee to America, and there was nothing I could do but accept it. “I’m ready,” I said, and placed Fee in Lizzy’s arms.

Within moments they were gone. And there we sat, Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, Henry, and I, in the private dining parlor of the Twin Anchors, drained and silent. The clatter of plates, glasses, and serving dishes being cleared by the servants barely penetrated my fog. Certain the others were worried about me, concerned for my feelings, I thought perhaps I should be the one to speak first.

I glanced up, catching Elizabeth’s eyes. “It’s true, what Papa and Kitty said about Lydia. She has settled into motherhood, and in a most natural way. She can even eat while Fee bounces about on her lap or falls asleep on her shoulder! Instead of depending on someone else to see to her daughter’s needs, she takes care of them herself. One can tell Felicity trusts her, loves her.” A throbbing ache in my throat stopped me for a moment. “Lydia must be given credit for making such strides.” I rose and walked over to the windows, staring into darkness. I wanted to hide the pain I knew must have shown in my eyes.

“I suppose we must give credit where it is due,” Elizabeth said. “She is a different person with Felicity than what Jane had described. But overall, Lydia’s behavior, her manners, continues to be wanting.”

“I thought her not as uncontrolled in her behavior as in the past,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Perhaps the influence of Captain Mason had something to do with that,” I said, returning to the table.

Henry, who had remained quiet during this exchange, now said, “She is so unlike the rest of you.” He spoke so softly, he almost seemed to be talking to himself. Then he looked at us squarely. “My pardon, but I can hardly credit that she is from the same family.”

Mr. Darcy chuckled, but Elizabeth and I glanced at each other, unable to hide our chagrin.

“Forgive me,” Henry said when he noticed our unease. “I should not have spoken.”

“Please, say no more. We understand.” I turned to Elizabeth. “If you wouldn’t mind telling me, Lizzy, I should like to know what was said between you and Lydia.”

“Oh, Mary, are you sure? She made some quite unjust accusations against you.”

“I expect I heard some of them already, when we met them in the park, so it should not be too shocking.”

“Mary has a right to know,” Mr. Darcy said, a gentle prompt to his wife.

“The chief of it was that you had tried to make yourself into Felicity’s mother, pushing Lydia aside whenever you could, never allowing her to perform any care of the baby except feedings.”

She paused, no doubt considering if I could bear hearing the rest.

“Go on.”

“When I reminded her of her seeming indifference to the child, she agreed it was true at first, but said that long after she had gotten over it, you continued in the same manner.”

“That is nearly word for word what she said to me in the park,” I said, looking toward Henry, who nodded his agreement. I supposed I needed not own to the truth. I could let them believe I was the injured party, completely innocent of the charges laid against me by Lydia. Instead, I shocked them all by saying, “There are some parts of her account with which I cannot take exception.”

Elizabeth furrowed her brows. “But Mary—”

I held up a staying hand. “Hear me out. I must make a clean breast of it.” Now they were all silent attention, three sets of eyes fixed on me. “As you know, Lydia did not take easily to motherhood.” I laughed a little at the memory. “When I look back, I wonder how we survived those first few months, with Lydia so completely withdrawn and myself so ignorant. If Jane had not been there for the first weeks, I don’t know how we would have managed.

“For the longest time, I did everything in my power to force Lydia to be a mother to Fee, but nothing worked. In the end, it was simpler to do everything myself. After a time, I began to believe I
was
her rightful mother. When at last Lydia started to show an interest in Felicity, I was immediately resentful and jealous. I wasn’t proud of those feelings but couldn’t seem to overcome them.”

“That was only natural—” my sister broke in.

“Let me finish, Lizzy.” Thank God nobody knew I’d put the baby to my breast. That was surely
not
natural, and I’d never tell another living soul. I hesitated about saying what I had to say next with Henry present, but there was really no point in hiding anything else from him. “At the time, I was desperate for love, and Felicity loved me! We loved each other.” I glanced up, catching Lizzy’s eyes. They shone with tears.

“I harbored dreams of raising her myself. I’m afraid I did not encourage Lydia’s efforts, so she reverted back to her coldness toward Felicity. I blame myself for that.”

“Given the situation, I believe you take too much blame upon yourself, Mary,” Elizabeth said.

“Perhaps. In all fairness, however, I was at least partly to blame for Lydia’s poor mothering and her disinterest in Felicity. The fact that she has grown to love her daughter, and taken full responsibility for her care, proves my point. She may have done so sooner if not for me.”

An awkward silence prevailed. I risked a quick glance at Henry. He was looking back at me with eyes full of sadness and something more. Pity, I thought. That was probably the only emotion he felt toward me now, or was ever likely to in the future.

“I know what I did was wrong, and I apologize to all of you for allowing you to think the fault was Lydia’s alone. At the time I deceived myself into believing I was the better person to be a mother to Felicity.” I dipped my head, unable to look at any of them directly. It was not an easy thing to admit one’s failings to others, especially those so well loved. Looking up, I said, “It is only since this latest crisis that I’ve had time to reflect upon my actions, and I now see I was wrong. Lydia seems to love Fee, and that is a great comfort to me.”

“I think we all believed her sincere in that regard,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Will you be all right, Mary?” Elizabeth asked.

“She will in time,” Henry Walsh said, quite unexpectedly, with the same blend of sorrow and pity in his gaze, evoking in me the feeling that he understood better than anyone else what I was suffering. He’d had to endure long separations from Amelia, after all. He was the only one present who knew what that was like.

My lower lip trembled. I glanced at him before I answered. “Yes, in time I will be all right. And it is one thing I have a great deal of.” I rose. “If you will excuse me, I must retire before I collapse.” I managed a smile, to let them know I was joking.

Elizabeth jumped up. “I’ll help you prepare for bed.”

“Thank you, but no. I’m quite all right on my own.”

I made my way out of the now-suffocating parlor and began climbing the steps to my chamber. I could hear the others speaking in low voices. At least they weren’t talking about me. Mr. Darcy said, “We must get word to Bingley.”

“Jane too,” Lizzy said. “And Papa.”

After that, they were out of earshot. When I finally crawled into bed, one thought, one horrifying truth, filled my mind.

I would never see Felicity again.

O
n the way home, Elizabeth and I rode in the chaise, while the men, who had traveled to Bristol on horseback, rode alongside. After an hour or so of desultory conversation, Lizzy nodded off. In her condition, she was probably exhausted. She and Mr. Darcy had been so kind during this ordeal. How could I ever repay them?

I thought of a line from
Macbeth,
“Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,” and acknowledged the truth of it. I didn’t feel as sad as I had expected. I had slept well and deeply. Although I knew the pain of losing Felicity would always be with me, I was not torn asunder by it. With time, as Henry had pointed out, I would be all right.

And what was I to do with my time? That was a conundrum. Even worse than losing Fee was the prospect of returning to Longbourn and living out my life with my parents, with periodic visits to my married sisters to help at births, nurse the sick, and stay with the children while their parents journeyed to interesting places. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my sisters and their husbands and children. It was simply that I wanted more from my life. If I was not to be married and have a family of my own, what else could I do? I felt very keenly the desire to earn some money of my own, to not be dependent on my father for the remainder of his life, and my sisters after he was gone.

Opportunities of employment for genteel women were extremely limited. Companion to elderly widows, or to young girls who, for a variety of reasons, needed a chaperone. Teacher at a private girls’ school, or governess in someone’s home. Granted, there were some women in trade—dressmakers, milliners, shopkeepers—but I had no skills for anything in that realm, never mind the disgrace my family would feel.

In a school, I could get by with teaching only the subjects in which I was well versed, such as literature and music. None of us had ever learned to draw, nor did I know French or Latin. This would be a drawback for a governess position, although in well-heeled families, masters often provided tutoring to supplement what the governess taught.

How did one go about finding such a position? The only way open to me was to approach my aunt Gardiner. She and my uncle had young children, and no doubt counted other families with children of a similar age among their friends. I was sure my aunt would be sympathetic to my plight and willing to advise me. Her own children had a governess, but I recollected her speaking of sending her eldest daughter to a school one day.